


Where the Wind Blows

by raviiel



Series: Let the Forest and Wind Be Our Genesis [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Gen, Hyrulean Civil War, Worldbuilding, but it's only in the background, oho buddy there's so much worldbuilding going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raviiel/pseuds/raviiel
Summary: While sneaking away from home, Saria stumbles upon something she's never seen before: a human.
Relationships: Saria & Link's Mother
Series: Let the Forest and Wind Be Our Genesis [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857118
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	Where the Wind Blows

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for mentions of war, injury, and blood.

The war is a faraway tale that's supposed to make them behave—Mido believes that wholeheartedly, and with his lead, the others believe do too. The forest is vast and deep and unkind to those who don't belong, and so they're safe.

Saria knows better. The forest is not perfect and invincible, and the outside world rages on, engulfed in fire and unspeakable horrors. They _are_ safe though. No one comes into the forest, or dare comes near it. Terrible things happen to anyone who tries.

The war has been happening for a long time now, but it means nothing to them when a lifetime is a blink of an eye, a single breath. Humans rise and fall, and the forest children laugh and play and sing and never hear screams and or see bloodshed.

Sometimes, if she watches the horizon, she thinks she can see embers fleeing into the sky to join the stars. Sometimes, if she listens, she can hear lives pass. Sometimes, if she wanders, she thinks she can see souls flitting through the trees in search of salvation. She wonders if they know that the forest only offers salvation to the lucky ones—the unlucky ones become bones or wood and straw.

_"It will end soon. Until then, children of mine, dwell only in the village."_

These are the words that have kept them close to home for what must be many years now, but Saria knows the world beyond in a way she shouldn't, and Father knows that she knows, too. It's why he never says anything when she slips away in the small hours of morning. He says the war will end soon and they can claim the forest as their own again, but she can't wait; she can't ignore the calls of the trees.

Tucked in the northernmost part of the Great Kokiri Forest, hidden deep by winding pathways and trees that watch every step taken, is a sacred place known only to a few. It stands, silent and stagnant; an indomitable fortress that no one knows the origin of.

Saria sneaks to the meadow that cradles its dilapidated entrance and plays all day, plays her worries away when it calls her. She's never told anyone where it is she wanders off to when they ask where she's been—not Mido, who likes to know where everyone is at every hour of the day, and not Fado, who already seems to know without being told. How could she explain the feeling this place gives her? How could she tell them the way it calls out to her? Even as she sits on the lone stump in the meadow and plays the ocarina, the wind whispers from an entrance no one can reach and whisks out to eddy around her.

_"You belong here,"_ it murmurs to her, this ancient bastion of stone that is so entrenched in the forest that the trees may very well have constructed it themselves. _"Home."_

Part of her believes it—but the rest of her knows her heart belongs with her tribe.

  
  


She pats the orchid-purple glow of her fairy, who has been fluttering nervously around her head since she sneaked out of Dekiri territory.

"Mao-Mao, you worry too much," she soothes, climbing over protruding tree roots and ducking around shrubbery.

Mao's voice jingles worriedly. "You should be home, sleeping!" Her luminous eyes dart in every direction and see every broken branch and undulating shadow as a threat. "Not sneaking out against the orders of the Great Deku Tree _again_ _!"_ She squeaks.

Saria coos at her fairy. "Aw, it's okay. There's nothing out here! Besides, you know the Lost Woods are no-one's land!"

Tucking close to her deep green turtleneck, Mao seems to have her doubts. "Not with the Stalwitu hiding in every burrow and branch! You know how _sticky_ their hands can be..."

Saria softly tuts, using a tree trunk to steady as she pushes through dewy mulberry bushes. "Don't say things like that. The Skull Kids are good Kokiri, and they never give any of the other tribes much trouble—"

Mao scoffs in her small voice.

_"Much,_ I said. You know they don't mean harm!"

She means that, despite Mao's skepticism. Sure, the Skull Kids can get a little more... _aggressive_ at night, but Saria always keeps her ocarina on hand in case of potentially Hostile Skull Kid emergencies.

"Besides, I just want to go play in the meadow for a little while before the morning comes. We won't be long, promise."

Mao pinches her neck, but it's little more than a prick from her tiny hand. "That's what you said _last_ time... I thought Mido was going to chew your head off like a Wolfos! Nyari wouldn't stop nagging me about soothing his fretting."

Saria laughs brightly. "No one's better at it than Nyari." She agrees sagely.

Mido's fussing is one of the reasons Saria prefers to leave when everyone is asleep. She loves them, but she loves her solitude, too. She hadn't been planning on sneaking to the meadow because of how firm Father has been in his advisory to keep away from anywhere close to the edges of the Great Kokiri Forest, but _technically,_ the Sacred Meadow is one of the deepest parts! Practically no one knows how to get there either—how much safer could it be?

Only a few know the way, and Saria is at the top of that list.

Besides, today is different. That wind had lingered in her ears and refused to be ignored, and she hadn't been able to resist. Something... _Something_ ushers her through the morning fog of the Lost Woods, curled around her wrist and pleading. How could she ignore such a thing?

It could be just her imagination among the smell of damp moss and undergrowth. Or something is waiting.

"Wh-What's that?" Mao squeaks, peeking out of Saria's turtleneck. "Saria, listen!"

Saria blinks and stops. "Huh?"

Mao rapidly tugs on her collar. "It sounds like Stalwitu!"

She's about to laugh and write Mao off again as too skittish before she hears it too—clicking and chirping, whistling and laughter.

"Oh, don't worry," she says, ignoring the jump of her stomach. "They're probably just playing a game."

Around her, branches and leaves begin to rustle. Saria doesn't flinch but does pause to find shadows and silhouettes bolting through the treetops in the same direction she'd been being led. It could be anyone, but Mao is right; with no glowing lights racing alongside the shadows, it could only be Skull Kids.

They probably _are_ playing a game—no one knows how to play like Stalwitu, if you ask her—and she isn't worried about being bothered since they're kinder than most Kokiri think they are. Her ears twitch at their laughter, though... It's jittery and frenzied, encouraging the knots in her stomach. They don't _usually_ sound like that.

They wouldn't attack her, but the same can't be said for anyone else.

Mao seems more put together, though anxiety stifles her glow. "Wh-Where are they going...?"

In the grays of predawn and heavy shadowed greens of the canopies, it's hard to see anything but streaks of red-yellow orbs glancing her way as they flurry by.

_"Come on, come on! Wanna see something? Wanna see?"_

Feverish voices reecho around her with excitement and hunger. They're _going_ somewhere.

_"Ria! Ria! Wanna see?"_

At the sound of her name, Mao whimpers. "Saria..." she warns.

Her apprehension isn't unwarranted, but the uneasiness in the pit of Saria's stomach isn't from feeling threatened. Instead, the trees burr and the breeze urges her, as if it _wants_ her to follow the Skull Kids. Her lips press together.

"...We'll only go take a look," she says without conviction to end with just a "look."

_"Sariaaa,"_ Mao whines.

Saria's feet refuse to listen. Her dark green boots briskly crunch over the duff until they're jogging, but her heart beats faster, and as more Stalwitu pass her, she can't help but run until she's sprinting.

Before she knows it, she's dashing through the forest too, ducking under branches and slapping away foliage in her path, fueled by a morbid eagerness to see what's riled up the Stalwitu so much. Getting lost isn't a concern (who ever heard of Kokiri getting lost in their own forest!), and she has no regard for implicit danger the way Mao does. What worries her is the Stalwitu's prey.

They could be hunting. Saria has seen them do that before; this fervor and frenzy isn't much different. Maybe they want to show off, but everyone knows to give Stalwitu a wide berth when they hunt unless they wanted to be next.

She doesn't slow down, but she does decide: If they're hunting, she'll go away no matter what the wind says. If it's something else, something out of place like the trees suggest, then... Then...

Bounding over every root and around every rock and bush, Saria closes in. The clicking and chirping intensifies, and the laughter bolsters with more and more delight. Even the trees churr and buzz, and Saria's heart pounds as they seem to grow around her and leer in the direction she races. Ahead, they break apart into a clearing that chattering titters out of.

_"What is it?"_

_"What is it?"_

_"It's loud!"_

_"Think it's got anything good?"_

_"I want it!"_

_"Let's see what we can take."_

No, they aren't hunting. They _found_ something.

Saria skids into the clearing, cheeks flushed pink and indigo eyes bright. The chitter clamors at the sight of her.

_"Ria!"_

_"Ria's here!"_

_"Ria, wanna see?"_

The treetops rattle at what Saria finally spies: a dead, hollowed stump at the center of the clearing. From an opening at the hollow's base, a pair of cloth-covered covered legs tuck in, away from the Stalwitu's stalking. Saria blinks at the size of them, larger than any Kokiri's, but something else ensnares her attention.

Crying. Crying that was too shrill to be from anything bigger than a... a...

_"It's so loud!"_

_"Annoying. Make it stop!"_

_"Should we make it stop?"_

_"Yeah!"_

_"Yeah!"_

_"YEAH!"_

Pressure begins to build in the air. Saria inhales sharply as one by one, Skull Kids drop out of the tree crowns surrounding the clearing. Giggling and buzzing, they shamble their rickety limbs towards the hollow and the crying that won't quit. Her eyes widen when she spots crude weapons—spears, daggers, slingshots, dart blowers—appear out of their hemp clothing while they approach. Goosebumps ripple over her skin and she shudders.

"Saria, we should go!" Mao cries, off her shoulder and tugging on the back of her turtleneck.

Saria trips back a few steps, ready to leave the Skull Kids to their victim, but a gust from behind shoves her forwards instead. She stumbles over the grass with a gasp and yanks her head up to see the Skull Kids still creeping towards the hollow.

_Do something!_

What is _Saria_ supposed to do? It's not her business! Mao can scold her all she wants later for her rampant curiosity if she can just _g_ _et_ _—_

"No, stay away!"

Struggling among the voracious babble of the Stalwitu closing in, a screech rings from the hollow. Distinctly un-songlike, not like a Kokiri, it's shrill and strangled, wheezy and terrified. Saria gapes.

It's a _human._

Laughter suddenly full of malice and wickedness drowns out the pleas as the Skull Kids draw in—and it isn't _Saria's_ business what happens to a human who made the mistake of wandering into the forest and getting itself lost... But it _is_ weird that the Skull Kids hadn't waited for said human to become a monster of bones before cornering it—

Another noise breaks into the sky: high-pitched wailing.

"Please!" begs the human. "I have a baby!"

_A baby._

Mao gasps in Saria's ear. "A human baby!"

Another gust blusters at her back. Saria realizes that even if it is a human, she can't stand by and do nothing. She has no idea what she's supposed to do afterwards, but that's for Future Saria to deal with.

Another gale urges her, and Saria knows that human or not, she has to do _something._

Considering that this is a Hostile Skull Kid emergency, Saria shoves her hand into her tunic to pull out a beige clay ocarina. She jams the jade-accented mouthpiece between her lips, ignoring how it clacks painfully against her teeth, and with a great heave of her chest, she _blows._

The earth, the trees, and the air above quavers with the force of the tempestuous note. Zephyrs swirl around her and flurry into the clearing, whipping leaves and grass and hemp clothing.

When it tapers into the sky, only silence is left like breath held. Countless pairs of orange-red eyes turn on her, stark and piercing against the deep green and gray, but she doesn't falter. From the hollow, the human baby's cries are muffled and the human adult whimpers.

Saria can't get to them yet, so she crafts a pathway. Though her breath is tremulous, she inhales the full-bodied wind around her and then begins to breathe it back into her ocarina, three distinct notes at a time. The melody enthralls the Skull Kids' attention almost immediately, and their heads begin to jerkily tilt and cock with curiosity and excitement.

_"Music."_

_"Music."_

_"Music!"_

_"Song!"_

_"Ria's song!"_

_"Hey, wanna dance?"_

_"Dance?"_

_"Dance!"_

Tension drains from the atmosphere as weapons begin swapping with equally crude instruments—flutes and pipes and strings. Soon, Saria's ocarina is overwhelmed by experimental notes that are the Stalwitu trying to follow the tune. The song she made up herself quickly mutates in the cacophony, resounding throughout the clearing.

Despite the chaos of her plan working, she doesn't dare stop playing. They aren't paying attention to her anymore, too busy having a new kind of fun, and she uses the distraction to sneak her way through the exuberant mob.

Inside of the dead hollow, Saria discovers the adult human wound on itself to be as small as possible, curled around a bundle that even the Stalwitu's commotion can't dampen. Pinks and purples have begun cascading with true dawn and steal the refuge of night from the human, allowing Saria a good look.

What would Father call this human? It's covered by a periwinkle dress and soft pink shawl, tassels in utter disarray like its blonde hair, flyaways framing its face and melded to its skin by the sweat of fear. Kokiri aren't like humans—their clothes and bodies don't help define who they are, but she knows humans are weird and finicky with that kind of thing. A dress means that it's... a woman?

Saria wrinkles her nose and stops bothering with the thought. She glances over her shoulder to check on the Stalwitu, and they're still having a merry time, smitten with the music. Their earlier hostility and hunger is thankfully absent, and Saria sees her window of opportunity.

She looks back at the woman and spies the bundle buried in her arms—the baby, wrapped in a pale yellow blanket. She frowns.

"Why'd you bring something so special here?" She asks.

The woman startles at her voice, flushed and blinking. "Wh—I..."

An out of place scent catches her nose, sharp and metallic, and she realizes what drew the Stalwitu here. She tilts her head.

"Oh, you're bleeding."

The woman looks blankly at her, as if not understanding her words and the fact that red is soaking through her pretty dress.

"I..." The woman grapples with speech, distress in her every sound. "I need help..."

"Saria," Mao twinkles in warning again. "Adult humans can't survive here. She has to leave! Once the Stalwitu stop being amused, you know what will happen..."

Saria does know. It's sad that the woman won't make it, and sadder that the baby will be left alone—but the Stalwitu will take it in if they're feeling good enough about it. Humans aren't supposed to come into this forest. She thought they were smarter than that, but how many humans has she really met? What can Saria do if they're this dumb?

A breeze whispers into the hollow, into her ears. She shudders slightly.

_You must._

_You must._

Saria's eyes fall on the baby, its chubby face wobbly and scrunched. It's so... tiny. She's never seen one before. Some of the other Kokiri might have, at least in her tribe, but this is her first time. It's just... a small human that makes a lot of noise and can't do anything to help itself. If Saria left it and the adult human here, what would happen?

_You must,_ murmurs the wind in her ears again. She takes a breath.

"I think... I can help." She finally says.

"What?!" Mao exclaims. "Saria!"

Saria frowns at Mao. "You're the one always telling me that I should help if I can, that I should see things with an open mind, that I—"

Mao huffs. "Fine, okay, I get it!" She bemoans. "Just hurry, you know the Stalwitu have short attention spans!"

On that, they agree. Saria promptly looks back at the woman, whose eyes gleam with what Saria realizes is hope. She can't _not_ help, not anymore. She's got to get these humans to safe harbor.

"Mao-Mao, can you enchant her ears to make her understand me?"

Mao groans but does as asked, flitting around the woman's head with her magic. The woman doesn't react—it's true, then. Adult humans can't see fairies.

"I'm not strong enough to carry you," she says when the charm takes effect. "Can you walk?"

"A-Are you going to help me...?" asks the woman, hoarse.

Saria nods. "Can you walk?" She asks again. She likely can't, but they don't have a choice.

"I—I will," the woman says determinedly, voice muddled with agony. She does as said though, baby kept close to her chest, and she pushes up to her feet, using the inside of the hollow for steadiness. "What about the..."

The woman anxiously peers past Saria. _Little monsters?_

"Skull Kids," Saria corrects the unvoiced prejudice. "They're distracted right now. We should be able to slip around. I'll lead you someplace safe."

Shakily, the woman nods.

It's lucky Saria found her instead of, say, Fado or Punika, or even someone from another of the tribes. Who knows what could've happened to them then. The wind may not have been as benevolent, and Saria is beginning to get the feeling that it's no accident she was being lured out here today. She doesn't voice that, though; one hearty scare looks like it'll put the lady down for good.

With her new task in mind, Saria nods and diligently turns around to peek out of the hollow. The Skull Kids are still having themselves a gleeful time with the impromptu festival Saria started, and in their preoccupation, they're unconsciously scattering further and further away—good news for her. They'll hardly notice the small, green-haired Kokiri leading a human woman away if they keep a careful distance.

"Follow me," she whispers to the woman, who tries to fight misery off of her face.

Not wanting to take the chance, Saria reaches back to grab her wrist and lead. The woman falters when she sees the herd of Skull Kids prancing and playing, but more than that, flame-like lights have begun to join them, flaring like they're dancing too.

"Don't get distracted," Saria says to her, and she quickly nods.

Although the trepidation of sneaking away fades when they escape the clearing, Saria is still tense as she guides the woman and her baby. Daytime might be setting in, but the blood could still attract all kinds of creatures dangerous to even Kokiri, and Saria won't be able to do anything about it.

The trek is grievously sluggish. Saria has to usher the woman around boulders and walls of trees, and help her climb up and down ledges. The woman's exhaustion doesn't help either; she pants and drags her feet, but Saria figures out that most of her energy is focused on putting one foot after the other. Human that she is, she hasn't given up yet, Saria admires that. She can tell that the woman really wants her baby to be safe and won't yield to the clutches of fate until it is.

It's familiar and strange all at once: Kokiri aren't ever babies, not the ones that hail from the forest. They just... come to be one day and the other Kokiri around them help them learn life, and then they live. It's not like with humans, how they have to dedicate their whole selves to this little thing that can't do anything on its lonesome. The forest has no adults—only Father, and Father's kin. He takes care of them and makes sure they're safe, but it's nothing like this. Nothing so... mobile and intimate and immediate.

Father is their parent, and this woman is the baby's, and they're just as different as they are similar.

  
  


By the time they reach home territory fortunately without incident, sunlight rains down and chases away all of Saria's apprehension from her very long morning. They arrive, and not a moment after, shouting echoes in from all over the village.

"She's back!" Soma shouts first.

"Saria!" Monta happily greets.

"Where've you been?" Oren asks.

"Did you sneak off _again?"_ Rigio rolls his eyes.

"Without _me?"_ Punika whines.

"Mido isn't happy," Fado singsongs.

Saria beams back. "He's never happy!"

Fado only half shares in her amusement, but stops in full when she spies the human behind her. Her eyes widen.

  
  


Daphne had not known what to think when this small child appeared before her, some sort of savior, eyes like gems and hair as green as leaves. She is so _small_ but full of so much life—something Daphne is short on now. She had thought it would all end when she'd been surrounded by those... those _awful_ little creatures and their terrible little weapons and beady eyes. That it only took music to save her life is baffling.

The girl—Saria, she calls herself—could be no more than ten or eleven years old.

Back in the Hylian stronghold, there had been odd tales every now and then of children in the forest, but no one had ever taken it seriously. The forest, forbidden to Hylians for reasons unknown, had been thought to be tarried only with beasts and dangers, too perilous to travel into, but her options had been slim.

Because of the war, places that had once been havens of safety had been ravaged to the ground. Only the Hylian stronghold and Kakariko still stand, and even they are shadows of their former glory. She'd had to flee because nowhere was safe anymore. Even her husband... Her beloved... Battle has claimed him and left their one and only son in her care, and now all she can do is hide.

It had been foolhardy to believe the forest would protect her, not with the _rumors..._

Then, Saria had found her.

At first, the child had regarded her with startling apathy, as if she had no interest whether Daphne lived or died, but that changed upon discovering her baby, her precious Link. The girl seemed to have realized something—and Daphne does not know what that might have been, but her gratefulness over it cannot be understated.

Though she hasn't been able to stop the bleeding that would leak the rest of her life away soon, she's able to keep steady as the girl leads her to her home apparent: a village.

Daphne simply can't believe her eyes when the forest opens up around them after they step out of a hollowed tree trunk tunnel. It's a true, breathing _village._ Houses made of trees that must have once been gigantic trim the perimeter of slopes and hills, and there are even dirt paths that have seen much foot traffic. Cool, unsullied air alleviates her beaten lungs, and sunlight kisses her face and somewhat eases her worries. It is a village that teems with _life,_ deep inside a place that had been said to be cursed and dangerous.

It is a world that hasn't seen a single day of war and tragedy in its life.

If pain hadn't been tethering her so viciously, she might think that she's already passed to the next plane.

Voices begin piping up from the quaint tree houses, happily calling for Saria, but that felicity is short-lived. Daphne inhales sharply at the sight of several more children appearing.

Hush, eerie and unsettling, quickly falls over the them. Small heads manifest from open doorways and around pillars and out of treetops to stare, and Daphne's heart begins to pound under her ribs. Their expressions deteriorate into dark scrutiny and guarded suspicion—their eyes, gemstones like Saria's, seem to glower. Daphne swears that some of their mouths even pull back in snarls over sharpened teeth, snaking chills through her emptying veins.

The glares and sheer inhumanity of their childlike faces makes her fainter by the second—are these truly children? Or are they beasts wearing the skin of humans? Her legs give way under her weight, and the sudden jerk startles cries from poor Link.

Saria gasps and whips around; the only kind face in a hoard of menacing stares that daunt Daphne.

"You have to be careful!" Saria scolds, quickly gathering Link from Daphne's arms in a moment of her own weakness.

She gasps as her son cries and reaches out for him again, but Saria pulls him away.

"You're too weak now. I need more help." She turns around and whistles to the village at large.

Daphne's heart palpitates—she's _calling_ for the other children. How does she know they don't mean her harm? Saria could have led her into a trap, a worse fate than whatever those scarecrow monsters had planned for her and Link before.

Despite her protesting thoughts, others trickle over. Their childlike appearance is some kind of bizarre, uncanny exterior that perturbs her the closer they approach, and it wears down her already weakened heart. Saria turns to them.

"We have to take her to Father," she says. Displeasure swiftly breaks out among them.

"A human? To Father? No way!"

"Why'd you even bring it here?"

"Should'a left it to croak, Saria." One of the children makes croaking noises.

"We're _not_ taking a _human—"_ this child, hair orange like fire and freckly in his gourd-like face, spits the word like it's poison, "to Father. And that's final. Put it back where you got it, Saria."

Saria, just as defiant as Daphne had seen when she distracted those monsters, curls Link to her chest and stamps her foot. "This isn't an argument. The lady wants her baby safe!"

As if realizing it for the first time, the children find Link in Saria's arms. Their displeasure morphs into excitement. Daphne feels the effects of whiplash, and her mind cannot process what these small humanoids truly are.

"It's a real baby!"

"Omigosh, when was the last time I saw one of those?"

"Yeah, we haven't taken in a baby in forever!"

"Aww, it's so tiny!"

The fire-haired child looks even more agitated than before. "No way." He argues. "We're not takin' in a _stinkin'_ baby, and that's final. Put them back where you got them, Saria!"

All of the children look between Saria and the freckled boy; Daphne realizes that if this village has any kind of leader and it _isn't_ and adult, it must be one of these two. She swallows thickly and tries to work her voice.

"Please..." she wheezes. "He's... all I have l-left..."

Several heads snap to look at her, but the weakness is taking over little by little, slowing her down and fuzzing her vision.

"She isn't long for this world," says a blonde girl with two round pigtails and violet eyes. She giggles. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to help her!"

Daphne doesn't even have the strength to be unsettled by her eerie laugh and abyssal eyes.

Betrayal rains over the fire-haired boy's face. His cerulean eyes narrow. "Fado, no way!"

Fado, the blonde girl, grabs the boy by the shoulders and shakes him playfully. "Fado, yes way!"

Another of the children, a boy whose maple-orange hair covers his eyes, clears his throat. "Whatever we're gonna do, we better do it quick. Fado's right. It's gonna keel for sure."

The boy, perhaps the leader, looks around the group and hears their murmurs of ascent. He folds his arms and huffs hotly. "Fine! But I don't wanna have _aaanything_ to do with that dumb baby!"

Daphne isn't sure if she should be relieved or not, but most of her conscious mind has gone to pressing against the wound in her side, though she knows it's futile. She only needs to endure a little longer. Just a little longer...

"Come on, let's get her to Father. He'll know what to do," Saria says when the matter is finally settled, cradling Link to her chest. He's far more calm than before—Daphne doesn't know if it's her clouding eyes betraying her, but he seems enraptured with something floating around his head that she can't see, gurgling happily.

Without warning, several of the children surround her and suddenly, she's hoisted into the air with their surprising united vigor and a, _"Heave, ho!"_

Their effort stokes her pain, and she can hardly muster focus for the surroundings, but it seems that these children well and truly _live_ here... by themselves. Do they ever leave the forest? What remains of their parents? They speak of this "Father," but she's yet to see an adult. What will they bring her to?

The trip feels long and difficult. The children frequently swap under her and complain about her weight and the smell of blood, they even ask questions one after the other, but she has no voice to reply. All she can think about is her precious boy and how she'll soon be parted from him, just as his father had no choice in doing. What will become of their little leaf?

After ages, the children finally bring her, and—shockingly gentle—place her down on soft grass that rolls across another meadow. Daphne tries to blink clarity back into herself and is soon met by the flabbergasting sight of an absolutely _massive_ tree. That alone is enough to stupefy her, but this tree isn't ordinary and has almost... human-like features: thick eyebrows and an equally bushy mustache under a large nose. Its bark is contorted into facial lines that give it a wizened look, and Daphne, barely hanging on to consciousness, finally realizes what depth of magic and enchantment flourishes in this forest.

_"Children of mine..."_

A deep, creaking, orotund voice reverberates throughout the meadow, disembodied. Daphne does not know if her fading mind plays tricks on her, but the features of the tree seem to _shift_ as real expression.

_"Whom hast thou brought before me?"_

Around her, the children bound to the tree and nuzzle its overgrown roots with the same affection children would show their parents. Only Saria still stands in front of her. It dawns on Daphne; they call the tree their _father._

"This lady asked me for help." She says simply, rocking Link in her arms.

Although his face is stiff as a tree should be, Daphne can feel him studying her.

_"And what woudst thou bid of my children?"_ He asks.

Daphne is slow to realize that he speaks to her and not Saria. Her arms tremble with the effort to hold herself up, and she coughs into her ruined shawl, trying to work her voice.

"G-Great tree..." Raspy words tumble out of her mouth. "Please, I beg of you... My son... I know I'm soon gone from this world, but he... I must protect him..." Her words are torn up by a scratchy throat and thin lungs.

_"Hast thou brought thy son before me, aware of his fate?"_

Daphne blinks blearily, mind slow to process the words. "His fate...?"

The tree is quiet for a long moment.

_"I see..."_ His voice, though broad and echoing, resounds with mournfulness that exudes through the meadow. Even the children cuddle themselves closer to his wood. _"Very well, Daphne of the people of Hylia. I vow to thee that thy son shall henceforth be under my protection for as long as power grants me so."_

She doesn't have the energy to be shocked that this tree, behemoth and immemorial, knows her name. Instead, his swear instantly frees her weary soul of the burden of fear and guilt.

"Thank the Trinity... Thank you... _Thank you..."_

Daphne feebly sinks to the grass. It is soft against her exposed skin. Above, leaves and sky begin to blur together. Her arm, stained by blood, drops to her side. Tears well in her eyes, stealing away the last of her vision.

With a frail inhale, she musters the last of her might and utters a single, final request.

"Please... Let me see him..." she rasps. "Let me see my Link... one... last... time..."

A green blur—Saria, it must be—kneels at her side. A small, mild touch helps turn her head, and Daphne's hazy eyes see the baby bundled in thin arms that are not hers. He's fast asleep by miracle, and peace kindly swathes his face.

Daphne imprints the image of her child into her heavy eyelids and breathes out in quiver. She reaches out her untainted hand, quaking and weak, to cusp and stroke that face one last time. Her strength denies her, but that same small hand reaches out to clasp it and carry it the rest of the way.

Warmth splays over her clammy palm, comforting and soft, and Daphne finally allows tears to spill and slip down her temples to the pointed shells of her ears.

"Link... Light of my life... My darling heart and soul..." she weeps. "Forgive your father and I for leaving you... Please know, my sweet child... We will always... love... you..."

Her eyelids finally win their battle and droop close, shedding the rest of her tears. Her chest expands once, and then never again.

Knowing that he will be safe, she lets Furol call her home.

  
  


  
  


Quiet enfolds the meadow of the Great Deku Tree. Only the placid rustling of his leaves and branches hums in the space, and the grass and flowers undulate in the mellow breeze, rolling in caressing waves.

The Kokiri, in the comfort of their Father's roots and branches, watch the life of the human named Daphne fade before their very eyes. Not a single one of them utters a word for a long time, only watching light particles swirl around her departed body.

Finally, Saria rises from her side and speaks up.

"Father..." Her voice has become timid and almost hurt. "May we pass her on?"

_"Dost thou wish it so?"_ His voice has become tender, soothing the confused, aching hearts of his children all around him.

Saria nods, slow and wavering.

_"Then let it be so, children of mine."_

No one argues, not even the stubborn Mido.

  
  


It's rare that they pass something on. It's always only been animals, but surely they can give Daphne the same sendoff. Human or not, she still died, and those who die deserve a farewell.

The tribe meanders back to the village proper and quietly delegate tasks among themselves. Unsure and uncomfortable bickering turns into Fado leading an expedition of Hadi and Vani, Sivio, and Lepia to find a suitable passing spot. They travel deep into the woods and are gone for half a day, and while they search, Orni and Orki harvest flowers to decorate Daphne's body with.

They rinse her bloodied skin in a ravine outside the village, and then bring her back to braid flowers into her blonde hair and fold into her paling hands; lilacs the color of her stained dress and shawl plaited into her hair and twisted around a soft green laurel crown, daffodils behind her ears, and a bouquet of white chrysanthemums and gladiolus over her chest.

When they finish and Fado's group returns to guide them to the passing spot, Mido, Nola, Mui, Penko, Olano, and Firi are the ones to bear the body. Not one of them makes a peep while they carry her.

At dusk, the tribe makes their procession out into the forest. Saria still holds the baby in her arms—Link, he is a boy, that's his name—because it doesn't feel right to leave him out, and the Great Deku Tree had encouraged her to let him say his final goodbyes to his mother, even if he really couldn't.

Rigio is the one to coordinate laying the body down on the bed of leaves Fado's group had gathered and directs Punika, Monta, Oren, and Soma with torches that light up one at a time.

At last, the group is gathered around Daphne's resting body. Rigio looks around.

"Should any of us... say something?" He asks, trying not to sound hesitant.

"None of us knew it." Orki mumbles, juniper eyes blinking. "Why should we pretend that we did?"

Hadi sniffles slightly, pushing a strand of honey orange hair behind her ear. "Yeah, but it's still so sad..." Her twin, Vani, gathers her into her arms.

"I've never seen someone die before."

They all look at Olano, usually so quiet, and how his head is tilted down, eyes hidden by his hair. They look down too, shuffling their feet.

"Yeah..."

"It was weird..."

"Yeah..."

"I don't think I wanna see that again."

"Yeah..."

Every one of them shies from the body in avoidance. The forest is silent, without even sounds of wildlife scurrying around. The only ones who move for a long time are the fairies, murmuring into their children's ears to comfort them.

Rigio clears his throat at last. "Well then, uh..."

After hesitantly looking around, Lin puts panpipes to her lips and their hollowness begins to lament among the trees, somber and slow.

"Daphne," Rigio goes on with encouragement from his fairy. "Sorry you died."

A dissonant hum of, _"yeahs"_ and _"sorrys"_ murmur from the group as eyes stay averted. Lin's notes guide the torchbearers until the flames grace the bed of leaves and kindle, and soon, fire licks at the frame of Daphne's body.

Saria pulls away from the heat and peers down at Link in her arms, who has done nothing but sleep since Mao helped calm him down. She wonders if he'll remember his mother. Will he stay with them? Is he going to grow up with them? What will that be like? She's never seen a human child before—have any of them? Will he miss his parents? Will he be sad that they died?

Her bottom lip begins to wobble at the thought. He'll feel so alone without them. Her nose begins to burn.

Lepia slips to one side, arm sliding around Saria's shaking shoulders as she leans her head onto one. Sivio appears at her other side, mouth too tight, patting the other. Saria looks from them to everyone else, at the faces of her friends, her family. Their fairies hover close, providing a grounding presence as unfamiliar emotions plague them, ones they're all unsure of how to cope with.

It hurts. Deep inside Saria's chest, it hurts... But the serenity of her family at her side is a balm. She isn't alone.

Link isn't alone either, she decides. He has her— _them._ They have each other, and they have Father.

"It was just a dumb human..." Mido snuffles, and scrubs at his eyes with the back of his forearm. "Who even cares..." But he lets himself be pulled in by Fado and Nola.

Lin's pipes finally slink away and embers flicker into the twilight above, ferrying Daphne's spirit along with them.

The trees shroud them, huddling in the warmth of the departing soul to quell their own.

Saria isn't alone, and Link won't be either.

_"Home,"_ calls a stone fortress from far away.

_Home,_ says Saria's soul as she's surrounded by it.

**Author's Note:**

> so! this is the first part of a series i've been dying to write centered on Saria and her rise to the Sage of Forest—altho you can also think of it as Link's life and the Ocarina of Time through her eyes, as well as worldbuilding for the mysterious forest that the Kokiri live in! i'm very excited for this one, and i hope you enjoyed it enough to read future installments!
> 
> my tumblr is [fiercerdeities](https://fiercerdeities.tumblr.com/) if you're interested :3c


End file.
